


Lacrimosa: Beauty of Life

by HerrKirschbaum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bonding, Culture Shock, First Dates, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Inspired by Music, M/M, Romance, Vulnerability, post chapter 84
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:48:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerrKirschbaum/pseuds/HerrKirschbaum
Summary: Post Chapter 84.“It’s kind of odd, isn’t it?", you said eventually. "That people, who can create such beautiful art, are also capable of these cruelties we have to encounter day by day."Only a few days after the fatal expedition to Shinganshina, Levi remembers his first encounter with classical music, a date and the beauty of life.





	1. Chapter 1

 

We’re inside the coronation hall, and it’s crowded with people. Their voices reach me, surround me, equalling a volatile whisper, barely noticed by me. I can't. I'm too tired, just like the others. Three days it's been so far, since everything went straight to hell, since our hope led us back to Shinganshina: A few hundred went out, barely ten returned. Since then they wouldn't leave us alone. Of course they know about the horrors we lived through (and that we once more have to face, now, where we slowly start to realise what's happened after the great shock). It's not like we have a choice, anyway. Just as back then, after you lost your arm, there are a lot of things that need to be taken care of. This time, though, nobody will help us out. It's not like back then when I made the choices so you could rest, no. Once more we have to be strong, only shortly, then, maybe, we will be able to get some rest.

Our presence within these walls is the last act of appreciation, before we're being released back to the usual routine of our day's work. Sometimes it feels like nothing has changed at all. Only this time there will be more quarters to be emptied, more personal belongings to be send home. Your office having to be cleaned out is the most noteworthy difference. This and some of our remaining soldiers imprisoned. With you being alive, such things would have never occurred.

The hall makes a quite festive impression, yet the dominant colour is black. It's not a big surprise, considering the reason why we're here. Only yesterday we received our medals of honour due to remarkable services for humanity, celebrated our hope for better days to come, while today we'll celebrate death. It's a memorial service for those who had to remain out there, buried and smashed by the beast titan's stones. You're among them, up there in the small room we chose for your ever-lasting rest. Never again you well set a foot in these halls. It was my decision.

I let my gaze wander around. There is Hanji, just next to me, to my right. It's hard to tell what they've been thinking, since a big black patch covers their right eye (they're halfway blind now but here, something Moblit bought with his life). Their calm, sincere way of acting during the past few days proves their true mental state. In a hurry they made them the next commander, and I know that secretly they hate it. Nevertheless they accepted, because you wanted them, because you ordered them, because they love you, honour you, just like me.

In the row behind us, wearing their dress uniforms like we all are, also highly decorated with medals, the brats of the 104th. Amongst them is this ginger-haired guy who carried you all the way from the battlefield to the rooftop, Floch is his name, or something like that. He has a piercing gaze that makes him unsympathetic to me, and it seems as if he's not getting along well with the others, too. Still, though: They're children after all, and in contrary to us most of them can't manage to hide their feelings (why would they?). Sasha and Connie have been crying since the first representative has begun his speech, but Armin's eyes as well are filled with tears. He feels guilty, it's no secret, I tried to talk him out of it, but he knows himself that he'll never be able to fill the void you left. It's the destiny I ordered him to bear, yet I don't regret it. The others look serious, tired, just as tired as I feel inside myself, I can't blame them. For two hours straight now there has been one speech after another, honouring our bravery, our losses, our dying, whatever.

On the other side of the hall I discover Nile amongst his fellow comrades from the MP. Since he learned about your death he has some sort of bewildered expression on his face that won't wear off. However: I want it to end, want it all to be over. It's an endless, vain self-congratulation that's taking place here. You would have liked it, though, while pretending not to; I have no doubt about that. It's not like you wouldn't deserved it, we both know you do.

"Jeez, Levi, could you please stop?" It's Hanji.

"Stop what?"

"You've been touching your bolo-tie nonstop."

"It's been bothering me."

"It's not so different from your neckerchief, isn't it?"

"I know. Still." It's just not the same. "You can't see it anyway, with that eye-patch of yours."

"I actually _can_ see it, Levi."

"How?"

But instead of answering they turn to me and correct the fit of my bolo-tie-like medal. Over my shoulder I shortly gaze over to Eren and Mikasa. Their being here is actually a miracle. They were supposed to remain in their cells until we had figured out some sort of punishment for their disobedience, but this here is an official gathering, and the image of unity within the own ranks must be remained.

Another speaker climbs the podium, it must be the fifth this morning, there's no end in sight, apparently everyone who's despised you while you were alive now feels obligated to add something to your sacrifice. While alive they openly fought you, you and your ideals, but now they all act as if your ideas had rooted within their own hearts. People are weak.

"What a waste of time and resources", I whisper.

"They pay us their respects", Hanji replies.

"Oh really? How long is that going to last? You know how much those people’s principles are worth."

I can hear them sigh silently. Their shoulders, until now slightly raised and tense, sink down a few inches.

"I just wish Erwin would be alive to see this", they struggle to say, but there is no aggression within their voice, only sadness.

My gaze, which has been resting on the speaker until now, a tiny, fat, bald guy, wanders over to the area behind him, where I can see about one hundred chairs, forming a semicircle. Not long from now, I hoped, and the concert would begin, the only thing worth to be heard during this morning; the musicians with their instruments, the choir with their sheets are already waiting in the background.

Only a few minutes later their time has come. When they finally step on the stage I can hear the people behind me whisper all sorts of things. I can see the musicians taking their places, preparing their instruments, while the choir frames them from behind, dozens of people, all dressed in black. The conductor enters the stage, people applaud, the musicians get up, greet the audience - it all happens so fast. The hint of a smile graces Hanji's lips; apart from that they appear quite self-restrained. It barely happens that we get to enjoy music, real music, in this analogue world we're living in, where we can only perceive what's right in front of us.

"You know what they'll play?", they ask and I shake my head, just in the moment, when the conductor raises his baton and the first soft sounds reach me, equally beautiful as terrible. My eyes, halfway closed due to the omnipresent fatigue, widen. With my right hand I reach for the medal around my neck, my fingers closing around the glassy gemstone. I feel as if someone has stopped the time and I start trembling, all of a sudden, but the music itself show that nothing like this is the case. I know the piece. Yes. I remember. I remember everything.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It all happened about four months after I had joined the Survey Corps. We were in your office, the sun already disappearing behind the horizon, reddish, weak rays of light being cut off by the metal frames of your windows. You were sitting behind your desk, lost in thoughts, working as usual; I was sitting on a chair behind your back, my arms folded in front of my chest, carefully eying the door. You had just made me your right hand man and every day it felt like a miracle to me. Morning by morning I found myself stunned to realise that this was all real, not just an imaginary product of my mind. I was of use. My life seemed to have found its worth. My existence was finally justified.

At some point I stood up, made a few silent steps through the room, and led my fingers slide over the backs of those uncountable amounts of books in the dark, wooden shelves. How a single man should have read that much remained a mystery to me, back then; I myself had barely laid hands on more than ten books, they were hard to get and expensive above all. Most of the stuff you owned was of pragmatic nature: Statistics, lists, books about strategy and leadership, scientific publications that would have sent any civilian owner straight to hell, but you were allowed to own them anyway. They made an exception for you, since you had somehow convinced them of their usefulness, who, if not you? You could have told them anything and gotten away with it.

Occasionally I looked over to you, as you were sitting there, bent over endless amounts of files, the fountain pen casually resting in your hand, your brows slightly furrowed. Soon you noticed me.

"Are you bored?", you asked, but you sounded amused.

"No." I shook my head.

"It's not like there wasn't any work for you."

"You're in charge; do whatever you think is best." I turned away from the books and once more folded my arms. "Your command is my law." But in truth we both knew that you wanted me to be around just as much as I did. It was the only reason why you kept me there, after all. Being alone was your weak spot, wasn't it? Whenever you were on your own the demons you could distract yourself from in my company caught up.

I let the books be books and stepped back to the window, one of them slightly opened. Out there I could see Moblit and Nanaba running around, apparently trying to keep Hanji from climbing into the well, not that a bath would have killed them. In the end it was Mike who approached them, pulling them out of the well, ignoring their fighting and shouting. I couldn't help myself from smiling.

"Say, Levi", you began, causing me to turn around.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think is the beauty of life?"

I frowned. "What?"

"I here have the statement of a young recruit who has disobeyed his orders. Right now he's imprisoned." With these words you placed the fountain pen on the desk. "He stated that during his first mission he suddenly became aware of all the beauty around him and now does not see any use in, let me quote, fighting a war nobody can win."

"Sounds kinda foolish to me." I snorted. As a member of the Survey Corps one apparently either lost his life or his mind. "Who is it?"

"Elias Roda."

"He was a nut job to begin with", I muttered, turning from the window, leaning my shoulders against the glass, my arms still folded.

"Might be”, you said, “But you did not answer my question, Levi."

We gazed at each other, you with these piercing, determined expression of yours, while I, as usual, fought the uprising tension with my well-known attitude.

"You really wanna know, huh?"

You refused to answer, but I could see it, the slight and caught-in-the-act smile of yours.

"Well, fine", I sighed. "It's me waking up in the morning only to realise I am still alive.”.

"That's it?"

"I'm simple guy, Erwin, I don't need much." That's how I'd survived, all these years.

"I see."

You sounded disappointed. Silently you took your fountain pen back up and continued writing, whereas I couldn't take my eyes off of you. How about you?, I kept thinking, again and again, the question almost burning on my tongue. What did you consider to be beautiful? And what was the meaning of this, anyway? Beauty. The mere thought itself appeared contradictory to me. Could there actually be real beauty in this violent and cruel world of ours? To survive, wasn't that more than we could ask for? Being able to eat a whole loaf of bread without the fear of being robbed, wasn't that the highest happiness one could long for? For me, being a brat, all green and vulnerable, it certainly was.

I could have asked you, sure. But as it happened so often, the shadows underneath your eyes spoke their own language. There was much to be done, maybe too much, and night was already approaching. That's why I didn't ask you. Maybe you have sensed it, secretly; maybe you knew that I had lied without realising it, since an honest answer would have included you, the 13th commander of the Survey Corps. You were the most beautiful thing in my life, back then, making me shine like a diamond. I couldn't have told you this even if I had wanted to, back then, I was simply not aware of it, and, apart of that, lacking the necessary vocabulary to do so. Therefore I let you write, silently, while only the calm scratching of your pen on paper filled the air.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of days later you sent me for the archives. I was supposed to get files you needed, documentations of previous expeditions, some of them already years old. A few had been labelled wrong, and so it took me longer than planned. Back at the door to your office I was surprised to find it hadn't been closed properly.

"Why him?", somebody said inside. It was Mike, I would have recognised his voice amongst thousands, deep and calm, thoughtful, his mind sharp as a razor blade. "It's not like he would have a sense for such things. He's what he is."

"An uneducated thug from the underground?", you replied, your voice sincere, but not lacking mistrust.

"He sure can fight, but that's it. Why did you choose him of all people? His attitude could ruin the reputation of the entire unit."

"Because he's the strongest soldier within our rows. It's about time to present him to the public."

"No, that's not it. It's about donations again, isn't it?"

"It's always about donations, Mike. Do you really think we could keep this place running with the money we get from the government? We couldn't even refill our gas-tanks with the pocket money they put us off with."

"Aren't you afraid that he'll step out of line?"

"No." I could sense from the tone of your voice, that you were smiling.

"Why?"

"Because my command is his law, that's why."

 


	4. Chapter 4

At the evening of the same day I found myself at the headquarters’ rooftop, a bottle of wine in my hand, as usual an involuntary donation by the kitchen. The sun was just about to disappear, the red fading, and the dark bluish black of the approaching night was breathing down my neck. First shy stars sparkled above my head, up there, far away from anything humans have ever personally faced. Only a few weeks earlier I had been sitting there surrounded by my friends Farlan and Isabel, making plans for a brighter future. Now I was alone, every connection to my former life gone, over and out, dead, just like my friends, my mother, like anyone who had ever liked me more than necessary. Sometimes I used to wonder whether it was me who brought misfortune over my people, but no, life just was like that, cruel, cold and, above all, short. Kenny once said that mankind was lucky to be mortal; nobody would actually want to live forever.

The door to the rooftop was opened, steps approaching. Those were yours; I recognised them immediately, just as anything about you this little detail had grown strangely familiar and dear to me in the very short time we had known each other back then.

“I thought I would find you up here.” The satisfaction in your voice was something I didn’t miss.

“I come here every damn night”, I replied, sassily, as usual. “Not much of an achievement to track me down.”

But instead of leaving you sat down next to me. For a while we silently watched the perishing sun. At some point you pointed at my bottle.

“Wine is no part of the rations”, you said, but there was no anger in your tone, only silent acknowledgement. Rules – we both used to bend them if necessary. It connected us that we both did not think much of them. Wordlessly I offered you the bottle and you accepted. You looked tired. Once more dark shadows could be seen underneath your eyes.

“You’re working too much”, I said.

Placing the bottle at your lips you chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“It comes with the job, Levi. People underestimate the amount of paperwork. In the end I am holding all the reins, though, and I prefer it that way.” For a moment you watched your fingers, clenched them into a fist, only to open it again straight after. “I’m an idealist beyond hope, Levi, cut me some slack. It’s not like I would have anything apart from my job.”

“You got me.”

From the corners of your eyes you looked at me. I could see it, the mistrust showing on your face, uncertain whether you cold dare to believe me. How often had they told you what you wanted to hear, only to let you down right after? But the expression soon faded, and you smiled, this soft, warm-hearted and kind smile. I had wished more people to see it, the real you, the man behind the commander.

“Say, Levi”, you began eventually.

“What is it?”

“Have you ever been to a concert?”

With furrowed brows I replied your gaze. I understood every word that left your lips, and yet I didn’t understand.

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Excuse me?”

“A... concert.”

I noticed how your eyebrows raised, just slightly, an expression of the surprise you must have felt. “Do you know what an orchestra is?”

I shook my head, secretly feeling like the uneducated thug Mike suspected me to be.

“How about instruments?”

“I know those. They’re used to make music.”

“Exactly. An orchestra is a compilation of musicians with their instruments, violins, violas, flutes, and so on. When they gather, in a room, or a concert hall, or even at a stage, in order to present their music, if there’s an audience assembled only for this purpose, it’s called a concert. There are entire rooms built only for such occasions. They were structured in a way that helps the music to unfold its most beautiful sound. But that’s not everything.”

“No?”

“Sometimes an orchestra is accompanied by a choir, supporting the orchestra with singing.”

“And that’s supposed to sound good?”

“It does. Very much, in fact.” You nodded with a dream-like smile. In this very moment a strange curiosity awoke in me. What, I found myself thinking for a moment, could be so impressive, that it caused such an expression on your face?

“How do you know that stuff?”

“My father used to teach me, but that’s been a long time ago. I suspect you didn’t have anything like that in the underground?”

“Art is a luxury we couldn’t afford down there”, I reply not without the strange sound of bitterness and our conversation came to a standstill. For a while nobody of us dared to speak; only the decreasing temperatures and the perishing light proved the passing time.

“It’s kind of odd, isn’t it? That people, who can create such beautiful art, are also capable of these cruelties we have to encounter day by day”, you said eventually.

“Bright light casts dark shadows”, I replied. “On the other hand we barely had any light in the underground and, precisely because of that, a lot of shadow. Apparently it’s just human nature.”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of my wine and returned the bottle. Together we drunk, handing the bottle back and forth between us. “There’s a state banquet given by the MP in two weeks. There will be speeches, a dinner, and music-“

“A concert?”

You nodded. “There'll be plenty of very influential guests; wealthy, influential guests. Their donations could be of great service to the Survey Corps.”

Wetting my lips with wine I looked at you. “What’s that to do with me?”

“I want you to accompany me.”

So that’s why you came all the way up there; that’s what Mike and you were discussing back then when I returned from the archives. For a moment I hesitated, drank my wine, then placing the emptied bottle to my feet. “An uneducated thug from the underground?” My voice was dripping with sarcasm. “My attitude could ruin the reputation of the entire unit."

Our eyes met, and after one second of confusion understanding began to show on your face. In the end, an amused twitching showed on the corner of your lips.

“The walls have ears, huh?”

“Maybe.” I suggested a smile. “Aren't you afraid that I'll step out of line?”

“No, I’m not.”

“And why is this?”

But you refrained from answering. Instead you leaned back and gazed over to the blood-red sun at the horizon. I did the same. This way we watched sundown.

 


	5. Chapter 5

With your invitation I secured myself the jealousy of our fellow soldiers, but nothing could have interested me less. On said night, I noticed the importance of this banquet once we had set our first foot inside the hall. Hundreds of people were there, all of them wearing their most expensive and exclusive garments. It was loud, the sound of people’s voices and laughter filling the air. As usual, most of them appeared quite unsympathetic to me in the first moment, just as the outfit you had made me wear during said night. Again and again I found myself tugging my sleeves and collar.

“Why couldn’t we just wear our dress uniforms?”, I whispered to you in a private moment, but all you did was laugh.

“Because tonight dress uniforms are only to be worn by members of the MP. All the others must wear civilian clothes and badges.” With these words you pointed at the silver badges fixed on our lapel, showing the wings of freedom, shining beautifully in the dim light.

A couple of days before you had taken me to a far away lane of our capital Mitras, where a tailor used to have his old and dusty shop, only a tiny, dark room, but well equipped. It was a place where one could borrow clothing worn so rarely that one needn’t to own it, and the owner, according to the way he welcomed us, quite fond of you. One hour later I found myself standing in front of a man-high mirror, dressed in a tailcoat, waistcoat, bow tie and patent-leather shoes. It’s what you called a full dress suit, or rather a white tie, that was the name of the dress code. I had never felt so uncomfortable my entire life. Whether I liked it, you had wanted to know, causing me to shrug. Thereupon you had reached inside the pocket of your coat, taking out one of the badges, fixing it carefully on my lapel, while my heart started to beat faster. You had been standing so close to me.

“Is it better now?”, you had asked.

“I feel like a dressed up poodle”, I had replied and you laughed. You were the only one who always laughed at my jokes. I’ve always had a terrible sense of humour.

Said banquet was strictly organised. You had instructed me beforehand and I stuck to your orders. Therefore the evening consisted of an endless flow of conversations, appetizers, champagne and other nullities. You were leading us, of course: Whenever we bumped into someone you knew (basically everyone present, so it felt), you initiated a conversation. Of course everyone involved already knew at that point what you were up to, but that was something we were not allowed to skip, you mentioned once, it was a dance that ought to be danced, anything else would just ruin our chances. I didn’t understand, but I trusted your judgement. Soon you left the talking to me. People had by now heard of me and my achievements, they were curious, sometimes even bold, but their interest was sincere and our advantage. They buried me under questions and I replied, in a mono-syllabic and taciturn manner, as polite as I could manage, secretly surprised at the admiration they offered me. In the end you took over, always leading the conversation to the same conclusion, particularly that a donation for the Survey Corps would be needed and appreciated.

To my surprise, it worked. Whenever I gazed at you from the corners of my eyes, you were completely in your element, charming, confident, friendly and passionate, all things I wouldn't have been able to embody no matter how hard I tried. And even though these conversations flattered me, and I enjoyed your company, I secretly only wondered one thing: When would this concert you spoke of take place? Would it live up to my expectations or be a disappointment? What did an orchestra or a choir sound like?

Eventually dinner was held, the food was excellent, but I didn’t care at all, I had different priorities on said night. Afterwards you led me to the hall where the concert was supposed to take place. I didn’t let it show, but in fact I was as excited as I had rarely been before. Again and again I had tried to picture how the music would sound like. It’s not like we hadn’t had any music in the underground, no, but back then they used to be single musicians with mostly broken instruments. More than two people making music without sounding terrible was something beyond my imagination.

The concert hall itself was already impressive. High walls, paintings, decorations, even stucco. My lips slightly opened I was the first of us to enter, yet I knew the entire time you were right behind me. I looked around. There was a stage at the other end of the hall, with chairs on it forming a semicircle, music stands covered with sheets of paper, and-

“What’s this?”, I asked.

“What?”, you wanted to know.

“The big, black box over there.”

“That’s a grand piano.”

“Ah.”

You pointed at a row of chairs covered with red velveteen: Our places. Carefully you touched my shoulder, leading me over. Back then it still surprised me to be touched by you, but it didn’t feel bad, not at all.

In the end a door not far from the stage opened; man and women in black suits entered the hall. All of them carried their instruments with them. This way they approached their seats and sat down. You then bent over and started to explain the different groups that formed an orchestra to me: strings, woodwinds, brasses, percussion, choir. Back then I sometimes felt like a child next to you, a child that knew nothing about life, and that was fully aware of all the things it had missed out so far. Breathlessly I listened to you, hung on every of your words, drank up every little drop of knowledge you offered me.

A tiny little man, fat, bald, a wooden stick in his hand, was placing himself in front of the orchestra.

“Their commander?”, I suggested.

“Almost. It’s called a conductor.”

“Conductor, huh?”

“Yes.”

I did not miss the satisfied smile on your face. For a moment I wondered what on earth this wooden stick was for, but my pride prevented me from asking. I felt as if I had already been embarrassing myself enough with my obvious lack of knowledge.

“Let me get one thing straight”, I eventually began.

“Yes?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course not.” Your mild eyes struck mine.

“I know different things.”

“I’m fully aware of that, Levi.”

“Good.”

I knew that this was in fact not my place to be, this gathering of the elite and openly shown wealth. And yet, here I was.

“What’s the name of the piece?”, I asked. Not that it had changed anything, I didn’t know any music, but you replied as if it didn’t matter at all.

“They start with Mozart’s Lacrimosa”, you replied with a short look on the flyer they had handed us earlier, your brows furrowed, obviously baffled. “I wonder why they chose such a dark piece for the opening.”

“Dark?”

“Yes. One would rather expect it at a funeral, not here.” With a shrug you folded the flyer, carefully placing it in the chest pocket of your tailcoat. “It was the last thing Mozart wrote and part of a commissioned requiem. He sketched the essentials, but in fact died with 36 after only writing down the first eight bars of the piece. His right hand men finished his work.” With a smile you shook your head. “How sad it must be to die without being able to fulfil your dream.”

Yes, I wanted to say, yes, you’re right, but before I could open my mouth one more time, the conductor raised his stick and the orchestra started to play.

It were the strings which began, three notes in a row, sometimes falling, sometimes rising, urging, longing, somehow, but plain as well and streaked with a deep, hard to be described sort of sadness. For a few seconds it went on this way, when suddenly, out of the blue, the choir joined this construct, and even though I could see only four people up there at the stage, the combination alone was enough to empty my mind within one beat. Lacrimosa, that’s what they sang, and even though I didn’t know what this word meant, it struck me right to the bone. With plain, but full voices they sang, interwove them with each other, but there was no disharmony, everything seemed to fit perfectly, as if only been made for this very purpose (and in fact it was just like that). Tensions were built and faded, low, tired sounds mixed into monumentally appearing movements, only to change their ways all of a sudden or be rebuilt again. You know what I’m talking about, you were with me (and I could go on like this forever, and still I wouldn’t be able to express the sound of this orchestra in words). It’s impossible. There are some things which cannot be expressed with words, and I suppose music is one of them. It feels like trying to pack the smell of a summer’s day in a preserving jar; just that nothing will be preserved, that’s the thing.

Motionlessly, not daring to breathe, my eyes slightly widened, I sat there, forgetting the world around me, I, who was normally always on alert. In the end I closed my eyes and a shiver went down my spine, touched arms, thighs, worked its way all down to my knees. For a moment I felt as if I turned into smoke, as if these sounds pushed me out of my body, as if I had slept, thirty years of my life, only to be suddenly pulled out of my dream back into the real life. Never before I had felt so in synchronicity with the present moment; every second I wanted to drink up, conserve every tone inside of me, knowing, that I would probably never be able to listen to this song again, that it would probably be an event that would only occur once in my life. There I was, surrounded by this nameless beauty, and couldn’t believe that a man, one single man, should have written something so marvellous. All I had known up to that point was misery. I was born in it, it raised me. To kill or to be killed, that used to be my whole reality. I believed that living alone was enough, that staying alive was the only possible revenge on those who had wanted to see me die.

It was as if I had just learned to hear, after all these years.

You should have warned me. You should have told me, how music can stir human emotions, bring up what’s long been forgotten, touch hearts, as if the composer’s soul was speaking straight to mankind. I guess you did it on purpose. You wanted to see what would happen, how I would react; it was your child-like curiosity, still preoccupied with me, your new toy. I was still your little project back then, wasn’t I?

All of a sudden a flush of emotions and memories struck me, which, until now, had been hidden in some very distant corner of me, carefully stored away in the most secret area of my heart. I saw all those who had to leave without ever having the chance to experience the difference between living and surviving, my mother with her warm smile, Kenny, whom I back then thought dead or lost, Farlan, my best friend, Isabel, who had been like a sister to me. They were gone, but I was still there, I was their substitute, perceived it all in their place, because they were too far away to do it themselves.

My hands started to tremble, and before I knew what was happening, the uprising emotions tightened my throat, in a hot, pulsating, almost crying manner. My chest felt full and tight. Silently I clenched my fingers around the armrest of my chair, and even though I was no longer in charge of me, there also was a deep calmness which, in the end, was replaced by fatigue.

When the music stopped all of a sudden and the people started to applause, it took me a few seconds until I could react. Slowly, with growing intensity, I joined their applause, still feeling all dizzy. I hadn’t seen it coming, and therefore was surprised. In the end I searched for your gaze, only to realise, that you had been watching me already, a thin smile on your lips, probably eager to hear my opinion, yet once our gazes met, your smile faded right away.

“Levi?”, I could hear you whisper my name. It took me all my self-restrain to answer you.

“Let’s leave”, I muttered, “please.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Until now I don’t know how you managed it, but under your protection we made it out into the night without being seen. It was a humid, hot night, cloudy, but soon the clouds tore apart, exposing the pitch black sky with its countless stars. For a while we silently walked next to each other. Shallow and cold the sound of our steps was reflected by the surrounding walls, passed my ear, only to fade away being unheard. I did not care for the sounds around me; after the music I had listened to earlier it all appeared dull and unimportant to me.

Of course I did not miss that you secretly looked at me from time to time, and, to be honest, I kind of felt sorry for making you leave all of a sudden, since I knew exactly how much you liked such gatherings. Believe me, I couldn’t help it. For the first time since my friends’ death I was too churned up to react in an appropriate manner. Of course you wanted to talk with me. You wanted to know what was wrong, what on earth was troubling me, but I kept my mouth shut, and that way we returned.

In the end we arrived at the barracks and I was already about to wish you a good night, when you addressed me once more. Whether I wanted to accompany you to your room, you asked, for one last drink? We both knew that it was not a good idea to let the night end this way. I agreed with you. Together we set out, walked over to your room; I already knew it, but only in a superficial way, since I had picked you up there the one or another time. I had never entered it, though, especially not at night.

It was a room, plainer than I had thought it appropriate for a commander. The main reason why you had chosen it was the fact that it was close to your office, I suppose. The room itself was furnished with the standard items, but apart from books and sheets of papers flying around everywhere, that was it, basically. We both have to agree that cleanliness has never been your strength. Looking like someone who has lost his path I stood there, not far from the door, uncertain how I should behave. In the meantime you took out a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet, opened it and poured us some drinks.

“You know”, I eventually burst out, my voice hoarse and whispering, so much it surprised myself, “I always thought life was to kill or be killed, nothing more.”

The bottle still resting in your hands, your eyes pierced me through the candle light. But instead of answering you placed the bottle somewhere else, handing me my glass. Together we drank. Never before I had tasted whiskey, it was the first time, and of course I didn't tell you, you'll probably never fully know how endlessly unknowing I used to be back then. I was, after all, from a different world. But you let me rant, secretly knowing that this was what I needed, and I used this unofficial offer, even though I'm not that sort of person who talks much about his feelings. Violence, I said, was all I had known, all I had ever considered important in life, had learned through Kenny. Thoughtfully I eyed my palms and could still feel the blood of my enemies covering my skin, a liquid, that had wetted them again and again since my earliest childhood days.

I have not been born to be a great man. I am Levi. Just Levi. I have not even had a family name before Kenny had passed me his. Ackerman. It belongs to me, it's actually mine, I know it now, but I didn't back then.

“Humanities strongest soldier”, I whispered, “that's how they started calling me, right?”

“Yes”, you replied.

“Have you ever wasted a thought about what this really means?”

Our eyes met, but you didn't say a thing.

“It means that there's no one out there who can kill better than I”, I went on. “I'm the deadliest being within these walls, maybe even beyond. I don't know. Violence is my whole existence, it's everything that defines me. I wouldn't know how to be different even if I tried.”

“You're doing a great service to humanity, Levi.” Your voice had lost it's edge. Calm and soft it reached my ears.

“I know.” Shrugging, I gazed at the amber-coloured drink in my glass. “That's not it. I know the cold. I know cruelty. It's like breathing, it's always been there, I need it to survive, and deep inside I've grown so used to it that I couldn't do without it anymore. I always thought life was just about surviving.” With these words I raised my head and looked into your direction. “But say, that ain't true, right? There's more.” For a brief moment I hesitated and my fingers closed tighter around the flawless crystal within my hand. “I'm not making any sense”, I eventually whispered, closing my eyes and, as if I had gone back in time, I suddenly felt as if I could hear them again, the marvellous orchestra sounds.

“Actually, you do.” A smile gracing your lips, you stepped closer to me. “I think I know what's been troubling you. I used to feel the same, back then, when I've only joined the corps. For men with our past it can be hard to accept that there's more in life than cruelty and dying.”

“What do you mean?”

“You had no idea that there's such beauty in this world, am I right?” I opened my eyes and our gazes met. “The world beyond those walls, yes, you've seen it, but this? Music of such beauty that it goes right through you? You've been wondering how you could live all these years without knowing that something like this could be possible and you judge yourself since your friends had to die without being able to share this experience with you.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you were crying when we left the concert.”

I snorted. It sounded hostile. “I wasn't.”

“You're cheeks still haven't dried yet, Levi.”

As if your words had struck me right to the bone I turned around, carefully touching my face. There were actual tears still there, making my skin feel wet and cold at the same time. For a moment I looked at my fingertips, tried to remember the last time I had shed tears (it had been during the first horrible expedition). Then a deep sigh left my throat and my shoulders, tense and uptight right to this point, sunk down.

It was the moment when you, all of a sudden, stepped closer to me and I could feel it, your hand in my neck, pulling me closer against your chest. I let it happen. You were the only one whom I allowed to touch me – and I were the only one you regularly touched (as usual we made a good team here as well). I closed my eyes, let myself be squeezed against you and the emotions that had ruled my chest up to this very point slowly faded.

“It's alright”, you whispered carefully into my ear. “We're humans, no gods.”

“Don't tell Mike”, I spoke against your chest. “He'll make fun of me forever.”

“No.” I could hear from the sound of your voice that you were grinning, half friendly, half self-satisfied. “This is a secret I want to keep to myself.”

“That I cried?” With those words I broke lose.

“No.” Your smile intensified. “That Levi Ackerman has a soft side.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Shaking my head I drank. “I'm not a monster.”

Of course I wasn't, but somehow, in the end, I was. I had them, those feelings of tenderness, friendship and devotion, but since I couldn't recognise them, there was no place for them either. Hanji once told me that we could only talk about stuff we had words for. They're probably right.

You and I, though, fell silent, the whiskey resting in our hands. Eventually you pointed at your bed and we sat down, our shoulders touching, only slightly, but they did. I was the first to search for your gaze, watching your face, as I had done it so often before, but you were lost in thoughts. There was nobody more beautiful in my world than you, and secretly I wondered sometimes, how it was possible, that I had longed to kill you with my own bare hands only months before. By now the mere thought of losing you was enough to make me tremble, my only fear, my weakest spot.

“You know I would die for you”, I whispered after a period of absolute silence, with a low, but sincere voice. You took a deep breath, obviously thinking about what you should reply.

“Levi”, you began, but I interrupted you at once.

“One order'd be enough.”

To my surprise you started to laugh. It had an appeasing tone, as if you were struggling to believe that you could be that important to someone around you. In the end you turned to me, your eyes mild, yet amused as well. “Why do you keep telling me this?”

“Because it's true.”

In contrary to you I remained earnest, and that's how I replied your gaze. Slowly, as if you were only now starting to acknowledge the truth behind my words, the playfulness that had inherited your eyes, faded.

You shook your head, then emptied the glass with a big gulp, placing it at some table nearby. “I still don't understand, why”, you muttered, and suggested another smile. “But it's easier for me if I don't have to force you to stay with us.” Thoughtfully you weighed your head back and forth. “Still-”

“Why, you want to know?”

“Yes.” Then, with sudden urgency: “Would you tell me? Please.”

“How could I?” Shrugging I let my fingers slide through my hair. “I don't even know if there's a word for it, Erwin.”

“Then describe it to me.” Your eyes wandered over my face, and I didn't miss it, the hungry glimmer that had started to show, the same one I had seen back then, in the underground, on the day we met for the first time. It was a sudden change, and you made my heart beat faster. “Why are you with me? After all that has happened.”

With a sigh I drank up and placed the glass next to yours. “Because it feels right”, I said without looking at you. “Because you're the only one who can lead humanity back to freedom, and because this is a burden no one should bear alone. Because I want you to be able to fulfil your dream, Erwin, and I will fight until my last breath if necessary to make this happen. If I must throw my life away for you to succeed, so be it. Do with me as you please. My life lies in your hands. No idea how you would call it, in the end it doesn't matter anyway.”

I had expected you to say something, that you would at least look at me or nod or something like that. But nothing happened. Instead you kept sitting next to me, silently, staring into space, your brows furrowed.

“I know”, you said in the end and turned at me, “I know how this is called, Levi.”

“Tell me.”

Your lips opened, slightly, but I could hear you suck in the air into your lungs. Instead of answering right away you hesitated, as if you were wondering whether you should actually share your thoughts with me. “It's called love.”

I twitched. Afterwards an unknown warmth started to fill my chest, as if your words had made something within me overflow. Reluctantly I raised my head and our eyes met.

“I see”, I replied under breath, then lowered my gaze, but didn't manage to stay like this, looking at you again before I knew it. You seemed to feel the same. A strange expression had started to fill your eyes, something I had never seen on you before. Suddenly you reached out for me, let your fingers first slide over my cheeks, then my lips. They stood slightly open and my heart was beating heavily. In the end you gently pulled my bottom lip down, accidently wetting the tip of your thumb with my spittle. A tingling sensation started to spread in my limbs, growing stronger with every passing second. Soon I noticed that my breathing grew shorter and shorter and I hard, my pants feeling too tight for my body. Did you notice? You were probably busy enough with yourself, since your body had started to show the same symptoms.

In the end you let your hand slide to my neck, leaned down and for an endlessly long moment I could sense your breath on my lips. How would I have loved to just grab your collar and pull you closer, to press my lips on yours, drinking you up, breathing you, feeling you. Instead I remained motionlessly, reluctantly replying your gaze, knowing that this was not what you really wished for. You had chosen titans, years ago, and nothing in this world would have been able to change that. Marie was prove enough that such a niche did no longer exist in your life, so what should I have done?

In the end you probably understood my reluctance. With a deep sigh you leaned your forehead against mine.

“Oh Levi”, you whispered, “if you'd just knew how much I'd-”

“I know”, I mumbled. You were still so close that I could feel the warmth of your face on mine, I myself so excited as no Titan had ever made me feel like.

“I'm your superior.” Was it just me? All of a sudden you appeared so tired and sad. “My words are your orders.”

Once more I nodded. “There's a line”, I whispered.

“A line between us.”

“Once crossed there's no going back.”

“That's true.”

Sometimes there are higher goals in life. It was my duty to protect them should you ever lose your path. And so I took your hand into mine, pressed them against my lips, breathing a kiss against your knuckles, long, meaningful and, I guess I can call it that way, loving. It was the only time my lips ever touched your body, yet whenever I close my eyes I can still feel the echo until today. Careful, as if your hand was a holy relic, I placed it back on the sheet. I then stood up.

“You're full of shit, Erwin”, I said, grinning. “Also overworked and overtired.”

“Maybe.” A smile wandered over your face and your eyes starting to sparkle in the dim light surrounding us. “What would you want me to do, Lance Corporal Ackerman?” You laughed, and your voice sounded dark, but warm, almost cheerful. I shrugged.

“Forget your sorrows and go to sleep”, I replied and approached the door. “I'll take care of the rest.”

“Is that an order?”

“No.” Now it was me who was grinning. “Only well-meant advice.”

“Good night, Levi”, you said and turned around. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Thinking about it now it feels like a dream from another life, slowly fading into nothingness, like a picture that has been touched too often. Would I wake up one day unable to recall your face? Would there be a day when I'd forget the sound of your voice, the colour of your eyes, the determination in your face? Would I be able to bear losing you again, after all that has happened? Who knows whether I'll live to see this day. Who knows if I even want to.

With a blank face I watch the stage, the choir, the orchestra. It's the same piece they're giving, and yet the overwhelming emotions of said day won't return. There's only darkness that remains in my chest, that and: Emptiness. To be honest, I feel tired. A few hours all on my own, that's all I need. Just let me break down, I think, only for a while, before I struggle back on my feet and proceed on my way, you way, I've sworn to you, and what other reason do I have to be here anymore?

Lost in thoughts I gaze over to Hanji. They could have fallen asleep for all I know, since they havn't moved for minutes, but it turns out they're just carefully watching the orchestra, drinking up every tone and movement.

Did I do the right thing?, I wonder for a second. Or will this all lead only to further fights, shed blood and despair? I know that they're not agreeing with my decision, that they would have brought you back, and sometimes, in a weak moment, I wish I had done the same. Either way, my actions would have been selfish, yes. And still: I refuse to regret my decision – if there's anything I've learned from you it's this.

The last tones fade and the orchestra stops. For a second there is silence within these walls, followed by roaring applause. It marks the end of this gathering, the crowning finale, and people raise to approach the exits, a thick, never ending stream of bodies. Only Hanji remains seated next to me.

“Oy, four-eyes”, I say, placing a hand on their shoulder. Four-eyes technically doesn't work anymore, but it will take me a while to get used to it. By now, three-eyes sounds to harsh even for me. “Wake up, we got to go.”

They whirl around and I can them, their eyes are reddish, by grief or by fatigue, who knows.

“The others are already waiting for us”, I add and nod towards Eren and his comrades.

“Yes.” They let their fingers run through their chestnut brown hair and stand up, struggling to remain on their feet, for a split second only, but I don't miss it. Just as I, they probably haven't slept in days. “Excuse me. I'm sorry.”

“It's alright.” I take a deep breath. “There's been a lot of shit raining down on us recently.”

“Yes.” They put on their usual mask of boldness, courage and a winning grin. “But we fall, stand up and proceed, right? As long as we're alive we fight. That's the Survey Corps' way.”

I shrug. “Maybe those times are about to end. Once I brought down the beast titan we might be able to live in peace.”

“Maybe.” They correct the fit of their bolo tie. “There might be a way to get rid of the titans surrounding the walls without us needing to risk our heads.”

I listen attentively. “What?”

“Ah, nothing.” They raise their hand. “Just an idea I had, nothing worth to be mentioned yet.”

“I see.”

“Let's go to the others, Levi.”

We force our way through the masses. Sometimes we stop, are being addressed by others, and not just once someone shakes my hand, giving me his condolences. I hate it. In the background I can see Nile and our gazes meet for a moment, but then Hanji touches my shoulder and we move on. Again and again I look at them, and their face embodies what I am feeling deep inside: How, how on earth are we supposed to get along without you? There is a way, there's always a way, you would have found it easily, of course, so why shouldn't we find it as well? We, who carry you with us with every breath we take. You might not be with us anymore, but you will never be apart from us, yet alone forgotten, I'll make sure of that.

“You know, Levi”, Hanji suddenly begins next to me, folding their hands in front of their chest. With an almost dream-like expression they looks at the stage for one last time. “It’s kind of odd, isn’t it? That people, who can create such beautiful art, are also capable of these cruelties we have to encounter day by day.”

For a moment my heart stops beating, but it takes up its work before I know what has happened, only beating slightly faster for the minutes afterwards before normalising its frequency again. I don't let it show, why would I, what would it change? Tonight, once they'd finally leave me alone, I would allow myself to be weak and my emotions will find their way outside, I know it, by force if necessary.

“Yes”, I mutter, pushing my hands into the pockets of my pants, pockets, which, for a split second only, feel like pockets of a dress suit. “Kinda odd, indeed.”

That being said, we walk away.

 


End file.
